Survivor
by Crenna21
Summary: Methos is on the run and Joe is bewildered by another dubious friend of the oldest immortal: This is the story of Brianna (OC) who killed two hundred years ago Methos' student and nevertheless is his best friend. How come?
1. Old Friends and Other Trouble

**1999 - Paris**

Methos was on the run. Once again. But – and that was the cosmic irony – this time an immortal didn't want his head because he was Methos, the oldest immortal. No, it was because Kraden thought that Methos - aka Adam Pierson - was a greenhorn and therefore the perfect next head for his student Reynolds. Not that Methos wouldn't be able to defeat Reynolds; no, that wasn't the problem. But Methos, first of all, didn't like to take heads at all. And secondly, Kraden was known for not playing fair: He used to observe the fights of his students and kill the opponent during the Quickening, if the latter happened to succeed in killing the student. And from time to time, when Kraden thought that his current student became too strong, he killed his student during the Quickening.

Kraden and Reynolds had tried to ambush Methos the day before in front of his apartment. Methos had escaped and since then he had not returned home. What he needed was a plan. And a beer. The latter was the easier thing to find and so Methos dropped in Joe's Le Blues Bar.

* * *

Joe was already up to date about the events. After all, he was a watcher and had a short conversation with Kraden's watcher. After the horsemen thing Methos couldn't hide from the watchers the fact that he was immortal. But thanks to the help of Joe, they still didn't know that he was Methos, the oldest immortal. Instead, he was filed as Benjamin Adams, previously unknown immortal with a presumed age of about two hundred years.

Joe put a beer in front of his friend. "So, what are you going to do about Kraden?"

Methos growled and took a big sip of his beer. Where was the Boy Scout if you needed him? But Duncan had disappeared. He was probably busy with excessively meditating somewhere on holy ground.

"Kraden is always accompanied by a student. Immediately after killing one student he looks for a new one. He never fights an immortal first, he's always sending his student ahead," Joe continued.

"Yeah, always a master and a student. Think he watched too much SciFi," Methos muttered grumpily.

Joe looked at his bad tempered guest. He knew that the situation was not without danger for Methos. Nevertheless, it offered Joe the opportunity to mention a topic that he had never before dared to raise. "Tell me something about Nemain," he said.

Methos wasn't really surprised by the question. This teacher-student-thing made it almost inevitable. "Nemain?" he repeated the name to gain time to think about what he wanted to reveal to his friend.

"You've been living for five thousand years. However, your students can be counted on one hand. Therefore, she must have been special. But you never talk about her."

"No, I don't," confirmed Methos.

"And why not?" Joe tried to dig deeper. He was used to the fact that Methos rarely spoke of his past and Joe could imagine that Nemain might be a special delicate subject. But this time, Joe didn't want to give in.

"She's dead," Methos said finally, "For a long time already."

Almost five hundred years. Joe knew that. And he also knew who had killed her. And he knew that her murderer arrived in Paris just two days ago. Joe wasn't sure if he should mention that to Methos, because, first of all, he was a watcher and therefore shouldn't interfere, and secondly, Methos had already enough problems with Kraden. But Joe was too curious about Methos' reaction. And to learn more about the past of the oldest immortal justified a little interference.

"Brianna O'Conor is here in Paris. She took the head of Torcha last night," Joe said, "Torcha's watcher told me that it was a hell of a fight and it was at a knife's edge who would win."

"Torcha? It was high time that someone chops his head off," Methos replied calmly.

Methos stoicism made Joe angry, "Is that everything that you have to say? Good God, Methos, this is Brianna O'Conor. She killed Nemain."

Methos nodded, "I know. I was there. But I'm just not this eye-for-an-eye-tooth-for-a-tooth kind of guy. You should know that by now." He sipped at his beer, "Did Torcha's watcher achieve to follow O'Conor?" Methos asked casually. O'Conor managed to escape the watcher's surveillance long ago, but taking a head run always the risk of being caught by a watcher.

"Nope. She escaped him. We don't have a good picture of her neither. We only know for sure that it was O'Conor because Torcha called her by that name." Joe tried a last question, "What happened back then, five hundred years ago?"

Methos finished his beer and got up. "It's already late. Too late for old stories. And I have to find a way to get rid of Kraden." And suddenly, there actually seemed to be an answer for the teacher–student problem. But another problem had just come up: How could he manage to keep Brianna and Joe away from each other?

* * *

Motionless Brianna O'Conor stood in front of the grave and allowed herself to be carried away by the memories. On the plain tombstone only one word was written: _Baisemaux_. She laid down a red rose. So long ago and nevertheless, the feelings were still there. The love, the joy. And the sadness. Too many graves to visit, too many roses to lay down. She walked along the graves and stopped at another one. The inscription was hard to read, but Brianna knew it by heart: _Alina, Beloved Wife and Mother_. A familiar buzz tickled Brianna's neck. She didn't care. No need to, holy ground. She continued wandering between the tombstones, remembering and laying down roses.

Finally she straightened and looked around. She spotted Methos, who was sitting on the wall that surrounded the cemetery.

He waved with a bottle. "Do you speak to me again, if I offer you a drink?" he shouted.

He threw the bottle to Brianna as she approached. She caught it and examined the yellowed label.

"Trib, you really try to bribe me with Whiskey I distilled myself?" she asked and sat down on the bottom of the wall.

"Yours the best," Methos answered, "And hundred years of sulking are enough anyway. Actually, you hadn't been so mad at me since that thing in Rome. And even then it took you only about sixty years to calm down."

"Yeah, but then I could stab a sword into your breast. Gave me much relief. Worth at least fifty years of sulking." Brianna took a big gulp and handed the bottle back to Methos. He jumped off the wall and sat down next to Brianna. For a while they were sitting and drinking quietly from the bottle by turns.

"Heard you've got Torcha," Methos said eventually.

"Was a hart fight," Brianna replied. Oh yeah, it had been close.

"Heard that too."

Brianna raised an eyebrow. "So you stick with the watchers again?" She sighed and emptied the bottle. "Do you have more of this?"

"Thought you'll invite me to your secret stock."

"Obviously I've no choice. I've to increase my alcohol level significantly to forgive myself that I forgave you again."

She got up and felt the alcohol in her head. She grasped Methos arm to find her balance. Together they strolled through the nightly streets of Paris to Brianna's city house.

Methos and Brianna spent the night talking, drinking, laughing, drinking, crying and drinking. They shared stories about the time since they had last met. Brianna noticed how much she had missed Methos. She felt comfortable in Methos' present, because she didn't have to hide who she was and what she was. It was a relieve to let all fall masks. Methos was her oldest friend - and the closest. There were times when she liked to take his head – like after the issue one hundred years ago – but nevertheless, Methos was the only person who really knew her. And she knew him as good as anybody could know Methos.

"I can't believe you killed Kronos," she said.

"MacLeod killed him. Not me."

"Yeah, heard that," Brianna replied sarcastically, "Is he a candidate?"

Methos shrugged. "Time will tell."

"And this friendship with a watcher. What is his name?" Brianna asked.

"Joe Dawson. And be sure to keep out of his way. He seems not to like you. I think it has something to do with Nemain."

"Nemain? What kind of a friend have you picked up this time?"

"Hey, you are the one who haven't talked to me for one hundred years. I had no choice than to look for new friends," Methos complained.

"Yeah, but you've never had the right touch for friends." She grabbed another bottle – the third, or maybe fifth? She didn't remember. One good thing about immortality was being immune to alcohol intoxication.

"But I would have liked to meet Alexa," she said.

Methos nodded. Yeah, Alexa and Brianna would have gone along well with each other. He smiled; actually, the two women would have been able to slice him up completely.

"And you? Almost thirty years with the same guy. You've always had the right touch for choosing your friends."

"You'll meet him. He's arriving in Paris tomorrow."

* * *

Brianna woke up with a terrible hangover. She was lying on the big wooden table in her library. Methos was lying under the table and snoring.

"That's what you're doing if you go out are alone? Picking up guys and drinking them under the table?"

Brianna recognised the intruder according to his deep voice. "You're early," she said without opening her eyes. Too much light. The man leant over her and kissed her.

"I'm on time. You're just...indisposed." He tried to stay serious. The picture of the two immortals, lying above each other was too funny. "An old friend, I suppose."

Brianna rose and sat on the table. "The oldest." She hit Methos with her foot. "Michael, meet Adam. Trib, meet Michael Hannah."

Methos opened one eye. "It's too early for smart-alecky Tommies," he said grumpily.

Michael raised an eyebrow and looked at Brianna. She shook her head. "No, you don't have to like him. Few people do, anyway."

Later, all three were sitting in the kitchen and eating breakfast. Well, Michael was eating while the two immortals were sipping coffee.

"I haven't known that immortals can suffer from such a hangover," Michael said amused.

Methos gave him a glance. "It was the Whiskey. Hell, Bree, what was that stuff?"

Brianna shrugged, "Perhaps a bit high in concentration. It was in the barrel too long. But I would never water my Whiskey with the broth that comes out of the tube here."

Methos didn't answered but felt meanwhile comfortable enough to suck on a toast. "Do you guys have plans for today?" he asked.

"We have a balcony at the opera tonight. La Traviata. Do you want to join us?" Brianna couldn't hold back a grin.

Methos sighed. "I don't really want to. There are more human ways of torture I can think of. Mike, be honest, do you really like operas?"

Michael grinned. "Nope," he said, "But I love Brianna dressed up to go there."

Methos laughed. "Okay, I'll join you. Finally Brianna was so gracious to forgive me. Once more."

Brianna frowned suspiciously. "What are you planning, Trib? Will I want to kill you after I'll find it out?"

"Probably. But after the opera I'll probably commit suicide anyway." He kissed her on her cheek. "Be good, guys. See you."

* * *

"Oh my god! That was more dreadful than I remembered," Methos was still complaining while they were heading down the stairs to the big lobby of Paris Opera. "Did you see, the guy in the opposite balcony even got a heart attack. They carried him away on a stretcher."

"You volunteered for that, remember?" answered Brianna in a good temper.

"Faintly," murmured Methos and offered her his arm. She linked with him and laughed.

Michael took Brianna's other arm. "But I was right about the dress, wasn't I?" he said, looking at Brianna's décolleté.

Methos rolled his eyes. "Using sex to bring people to watch operas isn't fair," he said.

Brianna enjoyed the evening. Accompanied by the two men she loved most she left the opera. They went to a small bar to have a drink. "So, Trib. I'm very relaxed and unarmed since Michael has my sword in his coat. This is your chance to tell the truth about your sudden opera admiration without being beheaded."

"It's nothing big. Just these immortals who want my head."

Brianna sighed. Michael frowned. After thirty years living with an immortal, he knew everything about the Game. And he knew how good Brianna was at it. But still, he was worried. Even if he had to promise Brianna decades ago not to try to protect her, it was hard not to interfere.

"Who is it?" Brianna asked.

"Kraden and his newest student."

Brianna laughed. "And I was already worried. This wannabe Darth Vader and one of his puppets? We can do them even before breakfast."

* * *

Everything would have been perfect. They would have beheaded master and student and Brianna would have been out of the city before Joe or another watcher would have even noticed. No chance for a watcher to trace her. No chance for Brianna to stumble over Joe. The plan was good. But eventually, someone just didn't to stick to the plan. Kraden and Reynolds, for example. Methos and Brianna had agreed to search for them the following morning. But they had been faster. And more twisty than Methos expected. But what could you expect from the dark side, anyway? They must have done some research on Methos, about his habits and his friends. And as a matter of fact, Methos had more or less only one habit and one friend in Paris: Drinking beer at Joe's Blues Bar and Joe.

The picture was stuck on Methos' door when he arrived at his apartment. The picture showed Joe, handcuffed on a chair, with something around his body that looked like a bomb. With a digital timer. And the timer showed ten in the evening. The only writing on the photo was an address. A warehouse down at the Seine, a bit outside the city center. So much about the plan on Brianna and Joe not meeting each other.

There was not much to do until the evening. The plan was rather simple. They had an advantage because Kraden didn't know that Methos was not alone any more.

"You need three people for this," Michael stated, "Someone has to take care of Dawson and the bomb."

Methos glanced at Brianna. It was her love, therefore her decision. Brianna nodded. Rescuing hostages was what Michael did for a living, after all. There was no way of preventing him to join them anyway. But he was not thirty anymore. He had grown older. But he was still a strong man and a soldier for life.

* * *

Methos felt the buzz when he was entering the abandoned warehouse. He had his hands deep in the pockets of his coat and strolled casually towards the immortal who was waiting at the other end of the big hall. Joe was sitting behind Reynolds. He shook his head in disapproval when he saw Methos entering. Why this fool had come? He would die, Joe thought.

Methos gave him a grin. No sign of Kraden, but Methos felt his Quickening close.

"You know, we can handle that without all the mess. Let's have a beer and talk," Methos suggested.

"You're losing your head first. Then I go for a beer," Reynolds answered.

Methos sighed. No sense of humour, these young immortals today. "Then let us play this open. Kraden, show yourself! Only kids play hiding games," he shouted.

Kraden appeared from behind a wall. "Kill him!" he ordered Reynolds.

"Adam, don't do that," Joe cried, "Run, you fool!"

Methos winked at him. The takes were set, the game could begin. He produced his sword from his coat, made a few steps backwards. Then he hit the sword against a metallic tube that was attached to the wall and went along the whole hall. The hollow noise spread through the building. Suddenly, the two other immortals were stiffening. They felt the buzz of a forth immortal.

"Am I late?" Brianna appeared at the scaffold above the men, grinning.

"As always," Methos answered.

"Then let us not wait anymore." She jumped and landed like a cat on all fours. In her hand, she had now her sword. "Which one is for me?" she asked, glancing from Kraden to Reynolds.

"I think we should draw lots," Methos said and searched his pocket. "Shit, no coin. Hey guys, do you have a quarter?" he asked Kraden and Reynolds, who were still stunned by Brianna's sudden appearance.

"Who the fuck are you?" Kraden hissed eventually to Brianna.

"Is this a fucking way to talk to a lady?" Methos said objurgatory, "I invited her since I thought this is the kind of party where everybody can bring a friend."

Joe knew who the woman was, although he had ever seen her or a picture of her. Her watcher file was very thin. Some years ago, some documents had gone lost. Joe now had a hard suspicious on who had made them get lost. Methos working together with Brianna O'Conor, the murderer of Nemain, his former student. Why he was surprised at all, Joe thought. Not this eye-for-an-eye-tooth-for-a-tooth kind of guy. Yeah, Methos, you managed to surpass yourself again. But Joe knew also he couldn't be picky on who was rescuing him.

"Ha, I found a coin!" Brianna cried triumphant and threw it to Methos.

"Head for Vader, number for Luke," Methos suggested.

"Okay, I take head. That's what I'm used to do," Brianna said.

Methos tossed the coin and caught it again. "Err, moment," he said suddenly, "That doesn't work this way. If you say head and head is Vader, then..."

Joe had the hard feeling that the two didn't play that game for the first time. And that they were enjoying it.

"Stop it!" Kraden was about losing his nerves. Not a surprise, since he was about to face a fair challenge. Not his strength, after all. And Reynolds looked nervous as well.

"Just a minute. Enjoy your last moments of life," Brianna said in a voice as talking to a naughty child, "Perhaps we should..."

"I kill you now!" Kraden drew his sword and ran towards Methos. Coward to the end, since he assumed that Methos was Brianna's student and therefore the easier target. Reynolds attacked Brianna with a scream. She made a face, she hated to kill kids. The fighting has begun.

Joe was too much absorbed by watching the fight to notice the man who approached from behind. He flinched when someone started to cut off his bonds.

"Don't move," the man said, "I take a look at the bomb first."

Finally Joe could see the man. English, according to the accent. In his sixties, probably. Short, grey hair. And not distracted by the sword fight, therefore, used to it. But no immortal, that would have caused a reaction of the four immortals. The man whistled softly after a closer examination of the bomb. "Well, no chance to deactivate it. But there's only one trigger. I can cut it off and then we just run."

Good plan, except the running, Joe thought.

"I'm Michael Hannah, by the way," the man said while liberating Joe from the bomb. He helped him on his feet and carried him more or less to the door. "Thirty seconds!" Michael cried to the immortals before escaping outside.

"Have you heard, Trib, do you manage it in that time?" Brianna shouted.

"I don't think I can delay it so long." Methos shouted back. "One!" he counted.

Brianna pushed her opponent closer to the wall. He was no challenge for her. She forced herself not to have pity with him. "Two!" she shouted.

"Three!" they shouted together and with a fast move they chopped at the same time the head of their opponents. For a moment, there was dead silence. And then hell broke off.

* * *

The bomb caused finally a rather small detonation. Anyway, it would have been sufficient to blow up Joe, but the building was quite okay afterwards. The double quickening caused a rather bigger damage. Methos and Brianna met Joe and Michael at the car, which was parked at some distance of the warehouse. The immortals were both turned on by the fresh Quickenings. The second for Brianna in only two days. She wouldn't be able to sleep for days.

"They had no idea who they're fucking with," she said, smirking.

Methos nodded. Joe looked from Methos to Brianna and wondered if he actually knew who he was fucking with.

"Let's go. This firework won't stay unnoticed." Michael said eventually.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	2. To Die for

**2005 - London**

The nurses and doctors were convinced that she was a gold digger. Brianna didn't care. But it made it difficult to get Michael out of the hospital. And she wouldn't let him die in this sterile atmosphere.

"Everything okay?" Michael looked pale and haggard. The strong man was gone, consumed by the cancer. They fought. They lost. And still, Michael was caring about her. He'd never managed not to protect her.

"Just some administrative stuff. Then we'll go home." She took his hand.

The buzz of another immortal made her rise her head. Damned, she had no time for that now.

"I called him," Michael said, recognizing Brianna's stiffening.

Brianna looked puzzled at Michael, then to the door where Methos appeared.

"I thought you shouldn't be alone," Michael said, shrugging apologetically.

Brianna leant over him and kissed him. "We should really talk about this protection thing once again," she said, smiling.

The doctor showed up. "Regarding your request to take the patient home..." he began.

Methos interrupted him, "Hi, I'm the lawyer of Michael Hannah. I think we should talk about that outside," he said.

The doctor looked puzzled but followed Methos.

* * *

Michael died a week later on board of his sailing ship in the Brianna's arms. Brianna didn't attend the funeral. Michael had a lot of friends from his professional activities and from his time with Special Forces. Many of them had met Brianna earlier and they would have noticed that she hadn't aged. So she waited until the ceremony was over and the people had left the graveyard. Then she went to the grave lying down flowers. She stood there a moment, tried to cope with it, but finally she collapsed. She let herself fall on the ground and gave vent to her feelings. The gods were grieving with her and let the heaven rain. Brianna didn't feel the rain, didn't feel the cold. She felt nothing but her lost.

Methos was standing a bit away from the grave in the shelter. He managed to keep the gardener and several visitors of the graveyard from calling the police or an ambulance.

After three days and three nights, Brianna rose. Methos wrapped her in a blanket and got her into her car. Finally back in her apartment, Methos wanted to bring her to sleep, but Brianna refused. Too much things to do. Put away a life. Michael's life. Their life. Brianna knew that she couldn't bear to stay in their common apartment. She began to pack Michael's clothes in boxes. Methos helped her, always making sure that Brianna had a full glass of alcohol in her range. "You've never told me how you met him," he said.

* * *

 ** _Backflash: 1975 – Central Africa_**

 _Brianna thought about ignoring it. Finally, it was just some crazy millionaire with the wish to self-actualize. If he wanted to throw his money out of the window and stumble through the African jungle, it wasn't Brianna's problem. The chance that he would actually find the mask was minimal. Yeah, minimal but not inexistent, Brianna told to herself. What if...? Brianna sighed. It was long ago that she had sworn to protect the mask. And finally, she hadn't taken the oath alone. Methos had also been there. Brianna considered calling him. But that would mean, first of all, to talk to him again, and Brianna had no desire to do so, and then, secondly, he would trick her to do it by her own anyway. Was there a limitation period for blood oaths? Probably not, and there was no limitation period for her conscience anyway._

 _It was rather easy to convince Richard Burton that she was Claudia Bracher, an ambitious German Ph.D. student, writing a thesis about the mask of Amanitore. This due to the fact that she knew a lot about the mask – finally, she was one of only two living people who actually had seen it – and she had the adequate paperwork, something that she had learnt from Methos. Only two weeks later she was sitting in a plane to Africa. The plan was that she would hang around the expedition as long as she would be convinced that Burton had no clue where the mask actually was. And due to the fact that Brianna knew that there was no evidence about the location of the temple – if Methos was good at something then at not letting behind evidence – it wouldn't take long. In a few days, Brianna thought, she would be home again. But once again, life just didn't want to stick to the plan. It just became waste paper the moment Burton introduced her to Michael Hannah._

 _"_ _Meet Major Michael Hannah." Burton said. "The major is the only living person who has actually seen the mask."_

 _Not quite, Brianna thought._

 _"_ _It seems that Michael is a bit...hm...handicapped?" she stated. It was obvious that Major Hannah didn't volunteer for this expedition since he was sitting handcuffed on a chair._

 _"_ _Unfortunately, our good Major has no appreciation of our mission to retrieve long forgotten history," Burton said, "But nevertheless, I managed to convince him to join us."_

 _Brianna had seen the mercenaries that Burton had hired. All armed to their teeth. She could easily imagine how Major Hannah was convinced._

 _"_ _Do you have a problem?" Burton asked and examined her closely._

 _Brianna shook her head. "The only thing I want is to find the mask," she said, "But how Michael can help us?"_

 _"_ _The Major used to be SAS, you know, British Special Forces. They were on a secret mission in Western Africa two years ago. But their helicopter was shot down by rebels. In the crash the whole crew died, except Hannah. He made his way through the jungle and happened to stumble over an ancient temple."_

 _"_ _The temple of the mask," Brianna concluded, "It's said King Natakamani built a temple, hidden in the jungle to store the mask."_

 _Burton nodded. "It took Hannah weeks to reach civilisation again. He described the discovery of the temple and the mask in his report. But SAS wasn't really interested in historic artefacts."_

 _Brianna wondered how Burton had come in possession of the report. SAS wasn't known for publishing secret mission reports. Connections was possible the answer, and money. And Burton had more than enough of both. And Brianna had a real problem now. Somebody had actually found the temple and the mask. Even if this somebody was rather reluctant to lead them there, Brianna knew that in the end, he would have no chance to defy._

 _Brianna thought again about calling Methos. Finally, he was the mastermind of sophisticated plans. But probably Methos would just suggest killing Hannah. Ultimately, Methos was always preferring the most pragmatic method. Without Hannah, Burton would never be able to find the temple because the report didn't describe the location precisely enough. Brianna thought about this option. But she'd never liked to kill mortals. And in addition, she was impressed by the man who resisted Burton and his money, because Brianna was sure that Burton had tried to bribe Hannah first. And probably with a hell lot of money._

 _Therefore, Brianna had no other choice than to work out her own little plan B, which consisted mainly of improvisation. The expedition was scheduled to leave in two days but for the preparations of her replacement plan she needed more time. She knew how to gain that little extra time when she almost stumbled over a small red fruit on her way from the hotel to the storage building, where Burton had installed his headquarters. She picked up the fruit and looked up to the tree from which it had fallen down. She smirked. The next day, half of the crew suddenly suffered from a heavy diarrhea. There was the suspicion that the salad which the crew had eaten for dinner had been contaminated, but now it was too late to stick to the old British rule for tropic food: Cook it, peel it or leave it. While the crew was running between bed and toilet, Brianna, who didn't feel more than a slight rumble in her stomach, had time to run a few errands._

* * *

 _Finally, the expedition was on the move. Apart from Richard Burton, Michael Hannah and Brianna, there were three mercenaries, ex soldiers, who were hired to protect the expedition from the various guerrillas which operated in the region, and to guard Hannah. Brianna named them Tick, Trick and Track. Then there were twelve local bearers who were carrying the equipment. Jeeps brought the expedition as far into the jungle as possible. Then they had to walk. On the third day, Brianna started her little sabotage. She had started already in town to make friends with the leader of the local bearers. Brianna had always been good at persuading people. So when they had set up the camp for the night, Brianna took her plate and sat for dinner next to the locals. After the meal, Brianna had reached her aim. When she woke up the next morning, the bearers were gone._

 _Burton was cursing and Brianna gave her best to look worried and frightened._

 _"_ _You talked to them last night," he barked at her, "Did they say anything?"_

 _Brianna shook her head. "They seemed to be in good mood."_

 _"_ _Dirty pack! You can't trust them," Tick, one of the mercenaries, said and spitted on the ground. "Let's go, we don't need them."_

 _Burton hesitated. Without the bearers, they wouldn't be able to carry all the equipment._

 _"_ _Problems?" Michael asked amused, "Seems that not everybody dances to your tunes."_

 _Tick awarded that remark with a punch in Michael's stomach. Tick smirked when he saw Michaels face distorted in pain._

 _"_ _No problems," Burton answered firmly, "Let's decide what's really necessary and then distribute the equipment new."_

 _They were continuing their journey and Brianna was thingking about her next sabotage. She chose her targets carefully, always making sure that the incidents were looking like accidents. However, when Brianna managed to set fire to Burton's satellite pictures of the jungle, even if she made it looks like the result of flying sparks of the camp fire, the suspicion grew. Too many bad things happened to the expedition. Interestingly, the main suspect was Michael, despite the fact that he was handcuffed most of the time. And Michael did nothing to dispel the suspicion against him. Brianna started to like him. However, her actions didn't result in the capitulation of Burton. He was totally fanatic about the mask. And his three mercenaries too greedy to give up. Brianna did her best to play the frightened, but determined and over ambitious young scientist._

 _After almost two weeks, they arrived finally on a spot where two rivers were merging. Michael had described this place in his SAS report. He had arrived there, coming from the adverse direction, following one of the rivers. However, in the report it wasn't mentioned which river he had followed. And Michael didn't intend to fill that gap. The mercenaries were beating him for half an hour, but Michael didn't even lose his grin in his face. Brianna cursed silently. This stubborn bastard. They would kill him on the spot._

 _"_ _Hey, let me talk to him," she shouted finally to stop them._

 _"_ _What you think you can do?" Tick said sneering._

 _"_ _Sometime it is better to take the soft way," she replied._

 _Burton hesitated, and then nodded. "Let her try." He had not many choices left._

 _Brianna took the first aid kit and sat down next to Michael. Silently she began to clean the wounds. She waited until the others were on other side of the clearance out of earshot._

 _"_ _They will kill you," she said finally._

 _"_ _I know," Michael replied._

 _"_ _You are too young to be so fatalistic. Don't you want to live?"_

 _"_ _You don't understand, do you?"_

 _"_ _It's just a thing. A clump of gold, nothing more. Is it really worth dying for?"_

 _"_ _If it's worth killing for, it must be," he answered, looking straight in Brianna's eyes._

 _Damned, she really liked this guy. "May I tell you the story of Alejandro Diego Spinoza?"_

 _"_ _Has it a happy ending?"_

 _"_ _No, he died screaming in agony."_

 _"_ _Then I take a rain check."_

 _Brianna sighed. "You're a damn pig head. You don't want to talk? Fine. But then stick to it." she rose. "It's the left one," she shouted._

 _Michael wondered for a second if she had just taken a good guess. But then he realised that he had just found the saboteur._

* * *

 _An ancient column with hieroglyphs on it signalled the expedition that they finally arrived near their destination. The column was marking the spot where they had to begin the descent into the valley. Everyone was excited, however, Brianna succeeded in persuading Burton not to start the descent before the next morning and to erect the camp for the night next to the column._

 _Since the several accidents had happened, the mercenaries had started to keep a watch during the night. Brianna had to get rid of that watch to make one of her last plans work. The rainforest was a source of all kinds of medicine - and of poison, if you knew the right plants and the right doses. And Brianna knew it. She had collected the day before the seeds of a rather unimpressing looking, small white flower. However, the seeds, boiled in water had a seditative effect. Brianna put the seeds clandestinely into the water when she was preparing the coffee for dinner. One hour after the dinner, everybody was asleep. Brianna glanced at Michael who was also lying in his sleeping bag. She wasn't sure if he was asleep too since he hadn't drunk the coffee. However, it didn't matter because Brianna was sure that he wasn't telling anything._

 _In fact, Michael was awake. He saw when Brianna was rising, sneaking out of the camp and finally vanished between the trees. It wasn't before dawn she came back, as silently as she left, and laid back in her sleeping bag. He couldn't figure her out. He was sure that she was sabotaging the expedition since the beginning. However, he couldn't even speculate about her motives. But he knew that she had saved his life, for whatever reasons._

 _The next morning, they descended to the valley floor. Three hours later, they arrived at the ruins of the temple._

 _"_ _The temple of King Natakamani, finally." Burton was enthusiastic._

 _The temple was in a surprisingly good shape. Considering that it was almost two thousand years old. It was covered by plants and trees, but most of the walls were still intact. Burton could hardly wait until the camp was established. He wanted to explore the old building and search for the mask straight away. However, the entry was blocked by a fallen tree. It took them more than half a day to free it. Finally, they reached the interior of the temple. The building had a very simple lay out, consisting only of a small entree and a big, square main chamber. A stone door separated the two chambers. The heavy door was still sliding on the smooth stone floor despite the centuries which had passed. Finally, they entered the sanctuary. The chamber was completely empty except a small altar made of a square stone in its middle. On its top, the mask. Burton was breathless and even Tick, Trick and Track remained silent. Michael wondered why the mask had seemed bigger and more majestic when he had discovered it two years ago. Well, he had been injured then and the weeks he had spent in the jungle were rather blurred in his memory anyway._

* * *

 _"_ _Now we have what we came for, what we are doing with him?" Tick asked, pointing at Michael._

 _"_ _Kill him," Burton ordered without hesitation._

 _Brianna was cursing silently in a dead language. That wasn't the plan. She had hoped that they would just leave him back._

 _"_ _Wait!" she cried, "This isn't necessary. We have the mask."_

 _"_ _What you are suggesting, Babe?" Track asked, "Do you think he'll just go home without telling somebody what happened?"_

 _"_ _Who cares? Who would believe him?"_

 _But Burton was not anymore susceptible to common sense. He was holding the mask, smiling, having forgotten the reality._

 _Track raised his gun and pointed at Michael. Brianna jumped. The bullets hit her back. She fell towards Michael, took him to the ground._

 _Michael heard how the stone door was shifted and blocked with something heavy. They were trapped. Cautiously, he shifted Brianna to the side. He pressed his hand on the wounds, but it was senseless._

 _"_ _Don't worry," she whispered hoarsely, "I'm right back."_

 _Michael felt how her body slackened. "Damn you, woman! Why the hell have you done that!" he shouted. He had been ready to die. But the death of this young woman made no sense at all. He didn't understand why she had saved his life, again. He remained sitting on the floor, the dead body in his arms. He couldn't do anything, not even bury her. Locked up in the chamber, he would be soon dead as well. But that wasn't important any more._

* * *

 _He didn't know much time had passed, when suddenly a light trembling drove through Brianna's body. Gasping for breath, she resurrected and opened her eyes._

 _"_ _Don't move," Michael said automatically, without really understand what just had happened. Taken aback, he noticed that her wounds had closed and only thick scars remained._

 _"_ _I said I'm right back," she muttered, trying to sound light. But she knew that there was no room for standard explanations such as bullet proof vests. He had seen too much, had been too close. She had died right in his arms and then revived again. He wouldn't believe the normal lies. But probably, he would neither believe the truth. He rose and made a few steps backwards. "Who the hell are you?" he asked._

 _"_ _I am Brianna O'Conor. And I am immortal." She remained sitting on the ground and looked up to him._

 _"_ _Immortal?" he repeated in disbelieve._

 _Brianna nodded. "I don't die._ _Neither bullets, diseases nor old age can kill me."_

 _Michael's common sense revolted. It refused even considering that something like immortality could exist. But it could neither deny what he just had witnessed. He took a deep breath and tried to take one step after the other. Solving first the most immediate problem._

 _"_ _Does your immortality also enable you to move through walls?" he asked, "They barricaded the door."_

 _"_ _No. But it let me know the back door." She reached out her hand and he automatically pulled her on her feet. She went to the altar, searched for a moment and suddenly and with a loud noise, one of the base plates moved. Beneath, a dark opening appeared._

 _"_ _Nice trick," he said, "By the way, if you don't age, how old are you?"_

 _"_ _It's not polite to ask a lady's age," Brianna replied._

 _"_ _I think that's only before the lady reaches the first century," he answered._

 _Brianna laughed, but didn't answer the question. "I think we should wait in here until Burton and his commando are gone," she suggested instead._

 _"_ _And the mask? You took all this effort to sabotage the expedition and now you just let them have it?"_

 _"_ _I have to admit my plan didn't completely work out as intended," Brianna said, "A friend of mine is the master of sophisticated plans. I'm only a layman in this. But it's not as bad as it seems. And I kept you alive, Mike, that was a hell of a job."_

 _Michael looked at her tattered and blood covered shirt which didn't really covered her body anymore. The scars were gone, her skin was immaculate. He reached out for her. He hesitated, waited for her nod, before he touched her, assuring himself that there were no traces of the bullets anymore. She felt him touching her back, felt his fingertips sensing for the wounds that were gone. She shivered._

 _"_ _Thank you, for saving my life," he said, his voice deeper than normal, standing close to her._

 _"_ _You're welcome," Brianna answered and looked up to him. For a moment, she thought he would kiss her. But then, the moment was gone._

 _"_ _Brianna O'Conor?" repeated Michael eventually, "So, you're Irish?"_

 _"_ _Born and raised."_

* * *

 _They waited until the next day before they went out of the chamber through the hidden tunnel. Their backpacks were still lying at the abandoned camping site. They climbed out of the valley and when they reached the column Brianna stopped. She rummaged around in her backpack and finally produced a blue packet that she had hidden in a packet of tampax._

 _"_ _Plastic?" Michael said astonished._

 _"_ _We have to blow up this column. With it gone, nobody will be able to find the temple again." She passed the explosive and the fuses to Michael. "I suppose SAS taught you how to do such a thing."_

 _Michael grinned. "You're a woman full of surprises," he said and looked around, "We should also blow off this rock, over there at the beginning of the descent to the valley."_

 _Brianna nodded. "Good idea. Without these two landmarks, the access to the valley will be invisible."_

 _"_ _Presumed that's still important, now the mask is gone," added Michael, but Brianna didn't take the bait._

 _The explosion left only boulder which would soon be covered by the rainforest._

 _"_ _Nice work, Mike," Brianna said, "Let's go."_

 _"_ _Wrong direction," Michael said, "We'd come from there."_

 _"_ _I know a shortcut to the coast."_

* * *

 _The journey went on without any problems. Michael evade to talk about Brianna's immortality; in fact, he hardly said anything the whole week it took them to reach the coast. Brianna thought he coped quite good with it, though. They checked in to a small hotel in two separate rooms with a shared balcony. In the evening, Brianna was sitting on that balcony, watching the sunset. She was sipping on a glass of very bad Whiskey she had found in the hotel bar. But at least it was alcohol. She definitely had earned a drink after these weeks. Michael entered the balcony and sat next to her._

 _"_ _You want a drink, too?" she asked._

 _Michael shook his head. "I don't drink."_

 _"_ _Really? Never mind. Everyone has its flaws. I still like you."_

 _"_ _You like me?" he asked, grinning._

 _"_ _Yeah, surprisingly, even though you're an English bastard," she said, smiling, "And I know you like me too."_

 _He grinned even more. "Even though you're immortal and Irish." He leaned forward and kissed her. Brianna kissed him back and embraced him. He touched her face, her neck, her breast. "Let's go inside," she said and he lifted her up and carried her into the room. Brianna felt safe and warm in his arms. She dared to hope that perhaps it might be even possible to let herself go and fall in love again. That perhaps Michael was strong enough to catch her._

* * *

 _They bought two tickets for a cargo ship that also accepted passenger. It would embark in two days. They spent the next day exploring the vibrant African city, visiting markets and playing tourist. Brianna enjoyed the company of Michael and he seemed to feel the same. But she also knew that there was still an aspect of her immortality Michael didn't know about. She thought about a way to tell him in a good moment, but then the events just came thick and fast._

 _They were having dinner when Brianna suddenly felt the buzz of another immortal. She knew that her wish that it might be a friend or just an immortal who didn't want to fight was in vain, it always was. But this time, the gods meant it really bad with her, she thought, when she recognised the huge black man entering the restaurant: Janbar Ulurusi. He was hunting her for centuries. There was an old story about some wives of his Brianna encouraged to leave him. He had taken it personal. Well, it had been personal, to be honest. He approached their table. "Tonight I kill you, O'Conor," he hissed without any introduction._

 _Michael wanted to rise but Brianna stopped him with a determinate gesture. "Whenever you want," she said calmly. The appointment was made and Ulurusi left as sudden as he had appeared._

 _"_ _Was that an immortal, too?" Michael asked._

 _"_ _How'd you guess?" she asked._

 _Michael didn't know. There had been something in his face, in his whole gesture. And in Brianna's reaction._

 _"_ _Isn't it ironic to threaten an immortal with death?" he asked._

 _"_ _Nothing is absolute, not even immortality," Brianna replied._

 _They went back to their hotel. Brianna was thinking about how she could distract Michael, but there was no way. He didn't leave an eye off her. She produced her sword which she had sewed into the lining of her backpack._

 _"_ _Do me one favour, Michael, please. Stay here."_

 _"_ _You're not going to fight this giant with a sword, are you?"_

 _Brianna sighed. "I have no choice. Can you hand me that towel?"_

 _Michael shook his head, thinking about how he could manage to bring this crazy woman to reason – and made the mistake to turn his back on her. She hit him with the knob of her sword._

 _Ulurusi was taller and stronger than Brianna. But fighting was more than only strength. Fighting was also technique, speed and tactic. And in these, Brianna was miles ahead of her opponent, who moved rather slowly and clumsy, relying totally on his physical advantage. The fight was hard, but Brianna was never really in danger to lose. Finally, she succeeded in outmanoeuvring him. His sword slid out of his hand and weaponless he fell down. Brianna raised her sword. With a sharp movement she let it come down and his head rolled to the ground. As she looked up, waiting for the Quickening, she saw Michael. He was standing in the half dark, watching her. She wanted to warn him, but then the first lighting struck her. Pig head, she thought, next time, she had to hit harder._

 _He came closer when the Quickening was over. She grabbed her sword and tried to come to her feet._

 _"_ _Who are you?" he asked._

 _"_ _I am Brianna O'Conor. I am immortal. And there can only be one."_

 _"_ _That's not enough," he said, but he helped her to stand up. The questions had to wait for the moment since in the distance they could hear the sirens of the rescue service. The lightshow hadn't remained unnoticed._

 _Back in the hotel room, Brianna was sitting on the floor, drinking the content of the mini bar – Michael had refused to drink anything – and explaining the Game to Michael, who was walking up and down, asking from time to time a question, but mostly just was listening silently. Too silently for Brianna's taste._

 _"_ _You're good at this," he said finally, "At this sword thing. At the Game." He had seen her fighting, he knew it._

 _Brianna nodded. "Yes I am."_

 _"_ _I need some air," he said. He grabbed his jacket and vanished. Brianna sighed. So much about breaking it to him gently._

* * *

 _Michael didn't come back that night and Brianna was afraid that he had left. But the next morning, he was standing at the harbour, ready for embarking the ship. He didn't really talk to her but that didn't matter for the moment. For Brianna it was enough to know that he was safe. They had separate cabins and Michael obviously tried to avoid her. She saw him standing at the railing, watching the sea. She couldn't help him. He had to figure it out by himself. The ship was heading for Malta, where they planned to disembark and take a flight back to London. There was a stop at Casablanca. Michael left the ship, Brianna preferred to stay. To come across another immortal was to be avoided. She was lying on the foredeck, enjoying the African sun, when suddenly a newspaper landed on her belly. Brianna blinked and saw Michael, standing above her._

 _"_ _Only a layman?" he said, "You're a damned Irish bitch." He sounded more impressed that angry._

 _Brianna glanced at the journal. The headline was 'American millionaire arrested with false African mask'._

 _"_ _They arrested him when he wanted to leave the country. It's written that someone gave customs a tip that he wanted to smuggle robbed African artefacts. But when experts examined the mask, it turned out to be a fake. A simple copper mask, covered with a thin film of gold."_

 _"_ _Bad luck," Brianna said, sprawling on her lounger._

 _"_ _You swapped them. The night before we arrived at the temple."_

 _"_ _Yep," she said grinning._

 _"_ _Why haven't you told me?"_

 _"_ _I was waiting for the right moment," she said._

 _"_ _Timing seemed to be one of your problems," he replied._

* * *

 **2005 – London to Paris**

The apartment was empty. Her life as well. The only thing left was a letter of Michael. A goodbye letter. Brianna didn't dare to open it. It would mean to say definitely goodbye to him.

"I'm not ready for a new life, yet," Brianna said.

"Perhaps you should visit Belan. When I visited him recently, he mentioned that water well you haven't yet finished," Methos suggested. In that state of mood, Brianna was dangerous. To herself and everybody else around her.

Brianna made a face. "Too thin air and too many prayers. I don't feel like monastery life at the moment."

Methos sighted. "You can move in with me," he said. Where he could have an eye on her, he added silently. He just hoped she wouldn't kill him by accident.

* * *

They arrived in Paris some days later. Methos had the vague hope that Brianna would maintain a low profile so that she wouldn't run into a watcher and in particular not into Joe. But in fact, Methos knew that this hope was in vain, taking in account Brianna's personality in general and her actual mood in particular, even before he felt the fresh Quickening inside her, when she came home from a nightly walk. Methos also knew that it would make Joe even more suspicious when he tried to hide Brianna from him. So he took her with him when he went for a beer at Joe's Blues Bar one of the next evenings. Brianna raised an eyebrow when she recognized Joe behind the counter. She let her gaze wander over the patrons of the bar, wondering how many of them were watchers. "Lion's den?" she said.

Methos grinned. "I thought you might be in the mood."

"Joe, I think you remember Brianna," Methos said when they reached the bartender.

"Sure," Joe said. How could he forget her, anyway? Brianna was barely looking at him.

"How's Michael?" Joe asked just when it crossed Methos' mind that it perhaps would have been better if he had talked to Joe before bringing Brianna to the bar.

"Dead," Brianna answered coldly, "Get I a beer?"

Methos shook slightly his head to indicate Joe not to go deeper into the subject. Joe put two beers in front of his immortal guests and then went away to take care of other patrons.

"Why are we here?" Brianna asked.

"Joe's smart and a good watcher. He would begin to dig deeper if he thinks we are hiding something."

"So the plan of the mastermind of the horsemen is to just put us in front of his nose, hoping he's short sighted? Brilliant," Brianna said sarcastically. "You must have gone mad when you revealed yourself to him. It took us a lot to make you a myth, remember? Why am I hanging out with you anyway?"

Methos smirked. "Because at the moment you're a pain in the ass and nobody else can stand you."

Brianna gave him a look that might have killed him – if he hadn't been immortal.

* * *

The following weeks, Methos tried to ignore Brianna's nightly forays. The Quickenings she was taking made her unsteady and tense and a difficult flatmate. Methos escaped to Joe. But the watcher just went to the core. "Brianna killed Eric LaSalle last night," Joe said.

Methos ignored him, drinking his beer.

"And Jim Yang the week before. And Sergey Ivanovic," Joe continued.

"I know. She's hunting," Methos said eventually.

"Are you not worried?"

"It doesn't matter whether I'm worried. It's her way of grieving. And I won't miss any of the guys she made a head shorter."

"I thought you were her friend, so perhaps you would miss at least her. She could lose her head if she goes on like this."

"I thought you don't like her," Methos answered, "And she won't lose. In this mood, Brianna is practically invincible. She banned everything out of her head except the hunting. Like this, she doesn't have to think about Michael."

Joe sighted. "I see. With friends like you, she has no other choice for coping with her grieve anyway."

Methos gave him a dirty look. But Joe was right, he had to stop her. But he knew that it would be painful.

* * *

Brianna was fastening her laced boots when he arrived at his apartment.

"So, who loses his head tonight?"

"Trying to catch up. Was out of the Game for a long time," she said, "Since when do you care, anyway?" Brianna answered, grabbing her sword.

"Since you are my friend. One of only a few left and I don't want to lose you, too. It's hard to find new ones nowadays."

"You're the one who is always saying that everybody dies, mortals and immortals. Haven't known that you became a sentimentalist in your old age."

"But I know exactly who you are at the moment," Methos replied sharply.

"It wasn't my idea to hide who I am," Brianna said in the same tone.

"And I also know you're always freaking out like this when you lose somebody. The only difference between now and the day when Conor died..."

"Don't you dare to mention Conor!" shouted Brianna.

"Then open this damn letter and let Michael go." Methos picked Michael's unopened letter from the wall and threw it to Brianna. "And spare us from further antics."

Brianna roared and raised her sword.

Methos regained life with a gasp. Swearing he convulsed in pain. "I hope, you feel better now," he hissed. He had known that it would be painful.

"It's not a farewell letter," she said.

Methos looked at Brianna, who was sitting next to him on the kitchen floor, the open envelope in her hand. Methos tried to hide his relief that she had finally opened this damned thing. "It's a new life." She gave him the paper. Methos sat up and glanced at it. It was a contract about a purchase of real estate. In Australia, he noticed after a closer look.

"I need something to drink," Methos said.

* * *

The next night, Methos woke up when somebody entered his sleeping room. Brianna tiptoed through the chamber and slipped under his blanket.

"Sorry, didn't want to wake you up, Trib," she said.

"If you're unarmed, you're welcome," Methos said and slide over a bit.

"I don't apologize, you were looking out to it."

Methos sighted. "And who pays for my bloody shirt? I probably have to talk to Joe about it."

"Why Joe?"

"He urged me to talk to you. He was worried about the hunting."

"He urged you? How did he do that?" Brianna grinned.

"He appealed to my conscience."

"Really? He must be a better friend of you than I thought. Not many people know that you have a conscience at all."

"Shall I throw you out of my bed?"

Brianna moved closer to him and cuddled him. "I won't tell anybody, promise."

* * *

They dropped in at Joe's Blues Bar the next evening. Brianna still felt a bit uncomfortable about the place since she had been trying to avoid the watchers for the last hundred years and she was convinced that watchers abounded in the bar. Nevertheless, this time she tried to make a friendly face and not to insult Joe right away. However, when they arrived at the bar Joe wasn't behind the counter but on the stage, performing.

Brianna listened a while Joe singing the blues and then turned to Methos.

"This man's emotional state is worse than mine. I think he sneaks too much around immortals and watchers. Must be depressing."

"Joe's okay. Just had a hard time lately."

"We should find him a woman. A mortal non-watcher woman," Brianna said.

Methos rolled his eyes. "What's up with you guys? You don't like each other but you're concerned about each other's state of mood?"

"He's your friend. You know the rule about friends."

"The rule is not to kill them - if possible. Not to make them happy."

"Then you should care about him more."

Methos raised defensively his hands. "I have to take care of you. That's already more than I can handle." He finished his beer and rose. "Let's go."

Brianna shook her head. "I stay for a while."

"Bree, he's my friend."

Brianna grinned. "I won't kill him, promise."

Methos sighed and left.

Brianna ordered another beer. She waited until the last guest had left and the crew was cleaning the place. She went to Joe who was grabbing his coat.

"Come on. I bring you home," Brianna said.

Joe looked at her with surprise. "I find my home by my own," he answered a bit sharper than intended.

"No doubts. But then I wouldn't have the opportunity to thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For kicking Trib's ass that he kicks mine."

Joe grinned. He just couldn't figure out what was about this woman. And her relationship with Methos. "I think we're even then."

They left the bar and walked through the dark streets of Paris to Joe's apartment.

"I'm sorry. About Michael," he said cordial.

Brianna nodded. "Thanks."

When they arrived at Joe's place he asked her in for a drink, convinced that she would refuse. But surprisingly, she accepted.

While Joe was in the kitchen, Brianna was wandering in the small living room and glanced at the books on his shelves. An interesting range of historic books. And a lot about music. An old binder draw her attention and she reached for it.

When Joe came back from the kitchen Brianna was sitting on the couch thumbing through the Nemain chronicles. There were some bad habits she seemed to copy from Methos. "That's why you don't like me? This old piece of watcher trash?" she asked.

Joe sighed. There was no reason for not telling. He put the Whiskey bottle on the table and sat down next to Brianna. "At the academy, there is an assignment where every student has to do a research project about an immortal. Since it is only for training, you get an inactive immortal. The task is to study old chronicles and historical sources to find facts about the immortal's life which weren't already known."

"Your assignment was Nemain," Brianna guessed.

Joe nodded. "I was fascinated by this woman. Her life. She lived for more than a millennia. It's rare that a female immortal becomes so old. Studying her chronicles made her so real, even if she was already dead for almost five hundred years then. And I thought that it was a pity that she must have died."

"That I killed her," Brianna corrected.

Joe shrugged. "It's the Game. I'm a watcher. It's not up to me to judge." He poured Whiskey in the glasses and passed one to Brianna.

"Okay, let's talk about Nemain," Brianna said, taking a sip. "I killed her and sometimes, I regret it. She was pretty cool. Most of the time at least. She had sometimes problems to control herself. You know probably, Nemain used to be goddess of the frenzied havoc of war in Irish mythology. The name matching is not coincidentally. When she was in rage, she could behave like a maniac."

"That's why you killed her?" Joe asked.

"I killed her to protect a friend," Brianna answered.

"You have a lot in common," Joe said, "Both Irish women, having problems to control their temper."

"Yeah, I think, the world couldn't stand two of our kind anyway."

They were silent for a while, sipping their drinks.

"Why are you a watcher?" Brianna asked suddenly.

Joe cleared his throat. "Well, I saw how one of you revived and before I could do something, I was one."

"Yeah, but why are you still one? You know, you cannot really hide a lot when you're performing on stage. And it didn't seem to me that you're watcher life makes you pretty happy."

"Is that of your business?" Joe replied sharply.

"Not more than my hunting is yours," Brianna answered softly.

"Why are you here?" Joe asked.

"Because we have a lot in common." She turned towards him and placed her hand on his chest.

Joe had suddenly the feeling that he definitely had drunk too much alcohol. Brianna was close to him and her hand went deeper.

"Don't," he said, "I don't need your pity."

"This is not about pity," Brianna said, "This is about solitude. And I don't want to be alone tonight. And I think you neither." She kissed him and Joe gave in. This night, they weren't alone any more.

* * *

"Thought Joe needs a mortal non-watcher woman," Methos said when Brianna returned home the next morning.

"Still my opinion," Brianna replied.

"Does he know?"

Brianna shrugged. "As you said, he's smart and a good watcher. He'll find out."

* * *

Joe dreamt of Nemain and Brianna. The two women were fighting first, but suddenly they were dancing, moving closer until they were kissing each other. Their faces blurred, become one. Joe woke up. He was alone in his bed. Brianna was gone.

On the table in the living room were still lying the Nemain chronicles. I killed her to protect a friend, she had said. Joe wondered who this friend might have been. According to Brianna's chronicles, her teacher had already been dead at this time. Close relationships with other immortals where not documented in the file. But this could also just mean that Methos had been very successful in screwing up Brianna's chronicles. In fact, Methos was the only friend of Brianna Joe knew of. And apparently he was also the only link to Nemain. Had Nemain threatened to kill Methos? It was not unheard of that a student would challenge his teacher, but there was nothing in the chronicles that would support this assumption. He thought about his dream and then suddenly a suspicion flashed through his head. A suspicion, if true would be egregious. But it would also explain many things, such as the close friendship between Methos and Brianna. Protect a friend. There were many ways of protecting someone, and it didn't necessarily include killing someone. Sometimes, it was enough to change identity to allow a friend to become a myth.

* * *

Methos went alone to Joe's the next evening. He found the watcher in good mood. Methos didn't even try to hide his grin. Brianna had always known how to make a man happy. Joe put a beer in front of Methos. "This one is on the house," he said.

"Now I feel like a pimp," Methos said.

Joe made a face. "Must be a well-known feeling for you," he said, but he also grinned. Tonight, Methos couldn't offend him. Joe exactly knew that the last night wouldn't repeat. He knew what a one-night-stand was. He wasn't in love with Brianna, or whoever she was. Nevertheless, he felt content and happy tonight. And he had still a puzzle to resolve.

"Where's Brianna?" he asked.

"She'll come later," Methos said. "She wanted to pay her respect to Darius.

"Brianna knew Darius? Were they friends?" wondered Joe.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't exactly call them friends. They used to have some basic differences of opinion."

"What kinds of basic differences?" Joe asked curiously.

"Religious kind of. Mainly about the legitimacy of burning down churches."

"Oh I bet they disagreed on that."

Brianna arrived an hour later at the bar and greeted Joe with a kiss on his cheek.

"How are you today, Nemain?" Joe asked.

Brianna raised her head. "What about Nemain?" she said, smiling.

"I think you are Nemain. I think you and Methos made this story up about your death to protect Methos or you or both. Methos couldn't become a myth as long as his famous student Nemain was still alive. And nobody would hunt for Nemain, the student of the oldest immortal, if she's believed to be dead."

"You know, you are quite obsessed with this woman," Brianna replied.

"Maybe. But I know that I'm right at this. It explains also why you and Methos are so close, even after Nemain's death."

"Maybe," Brianna said, still smiling.

"Maybe?" Joe looked at Methos. "Come on, guys, admit it. I know I'm right."

"Maybe," Methos said, "But I wouldn't put this in any chronicles. Contrary to other people, Brianna has no problem to kill somebody she slept with," he added in a conspiratorial overtone.

"He's your friend. You know the rule. You have to kill him," Brianna said airily.

Joe was sure that this was not an empty threat even if it was said in a joking tone. However, he never had the intention to reveal to the watcher Methos' or now Nemain's identity anyway. He looked at his immortal guests who were drinking beer and quarrelling about the haircut of the singer who was performing at the moment. Together they had over seven thousand years of life experience. God help us all, Joe thought.

* * *

Later, back in Methos apartment, the two immortals were drinking a last beer.

"I'm ready now," Brianna said, "For thin air and monastery life at least. I leave tomorrow."

Methos breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally! Thanks to all gods you believe in."

The remark didn't make Brianna angry. Another sign that she was prepared to let her wounds heal. Even if it would take a long time.

"I'll miss you," Methos admitted, "We should do something together once again. It's time for Adam Pierson to die anyway."

"May I kill him?" Brianna asked eagerly.


	3. The Goddess inside

**2010 – San Francisco to Sydney**

A noise awakened Joe. There was someone in his apartment. He reached for the revolver in his night table.

The shade of a man appeared in the door. "I hope we didn't wake you up," he said.

"Methos!" Joe said in disbelieve. After so many years, the oldest immortal suddenly stand in his bedroom. As he turned on the light, he saw that his unexpected guest was not alone. Brianna O'Conor stood behind Methos. Or Nemain, to be precise.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Visiting an old friend." Methos said. He tossed his coat on a chair and put off his shoes.

"We have a short stopover in the city. We thought you put us up for the night." He lifted Joes blanket and slipped under it.

"What's that? Go off my bed!" Joe shouted

Brianna had undressed in the meanwhile too and laid down on the other side of Joe. "We have to talk to you," she said.

Joe looked bewildered from one to the other. His bed was rather small for three people. "I wouldn't have guessed that you're the type for such closeness, Methos," he said.

"True. That's rather Brianna's style," Methos answered.

"We heard you sold your bar and want to move in a nursing home," Brianna said.

"A senior citizen's residence," corrected Joe automatically. "How you know that, anyway?" asked Joe puzzled.

"Amy," answered Methos.

Amy was Methos' watcher. She had decided to follow when Methos changed identity and moved to Australia to Brianna. She phoned Joe from time to time, but strictly didn't mention any watcher business. She shouldn't talk to her assignment either. She should know better. Joe missed her.

"We think that this isn't a good idea. You're not the type for a nursing home," Brianna said.

"Senior citizen's residence." He already had this conversation with Amy. But Joe was realistic. He knew that the time would come when he wouldn't be able to wear the prostheses any more. Then he would be definitely bound to a wheel chair and dependent on other people's help. He didn't like the thought, but it was inevitable. Hence, not everybody could stay young forever.

"It's not of your business," Joe answered rudly. He tried to ignore Brianna body close to him. But he must admitted, the warmth of the two bodies beneath him gave him a feeling of shelter. Slowly, he relaxed.

"We think you should come with us," Methos said.

Joe gasped. "Are you crazy? What should I do in Australia?"

"Weather's nice," Brianna said, "Everybody is very laid back. We have a big house. Wheel-chair accessible."

"And Amy is there," Methos added.

"You don't have to decide now," Brianna said, "You can think about it till tomorrow." She slid a bit closer to Joe.

"And you want to stay in my bed till then?"

"Yep, human contact is good for the soul," Methos said, also moving a bit closer to Joe.

Joe didn't really know what to do. He was trapped between the two immortals, but he had to admit to himself that it was really a comforting feeling.

"I'd be totally crazy to move in with you two lunatics," Joe said.

* * *

Joe arrived at Sydney airport two months later. He couldn't believe that he was really going to do that. But at the end, the two immortals in his bed seemed to promise more comfort than any senior citizen's residence. He passed migration and quarantine without problem. When he entered the arriving zone, he saw Methos waving at him. Next to him stood Amy, smiling a bit awkwardly due to the close presence of the immortal.

The first weeks were a bit awkward. Brianna had this wonderful house above the cliffs with an astonishing view over the sea. Joe's room was at the first floor, next to the living room and the kitchen with a direct access to the big terrace. Methos and Brianna shared the second floor; the third was used as training room. Brianna was studying mechanical engineering at a local University and did a lot of sport in her spare time. She was rarely at home. Methos had just taken up his medical studies and seemed not to be very tied up with it. He accompanied Joe often exploring the city and the surroundings. When Joe was alone, he made short walks to the close-by beaches or was sitting on the terrace, playing guitar with the waves. Amy was visiting him from time to time and slowly, Joe began to feel at home and get used to his unconventional flatmates.

* * *

It was close to autumn and Joe was sitting on the terrace, when Brianna joined him and dropped on the chair next to him. She had just taken a shower, her hair was still wet and she was wearing only a towel around her body.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Great waves," she said. She put her feet on the table and began to paint her foot nails.

"Bree, what the hell is that surf board doing in the shower!" shouted Methos from inside the house.

"It was covered by sand!" Brianna shouted back, ignoring Methos bad mood.

"Yeah, and now all the sand is on the floor. The bathroom is looking like a battlefield." Methos snored, appearing on the terrace.

"I was the goddess of frenzied havoc of war. So what are you expecting?" Brianna grinned.

"Welcome to the twenty-first millennia, when even goddesses have to clean up." Methos said. "And in my memories you were more the goddess of suicide than of anything else when we met."

Joe looked up. Since the night in bar, they had never admitted that Brianna was actually Nemain, even if he had no doubts about it. However, Joe avoided seeing in Brianna something else than Brianna O'Conor, an immortal hardly five hundred years old. But it was not true. He knew.

"I remember," she answered dryly. "And I remember that you weren't really helpful. I jumped off that cliff about a dozen times."

"You were a slow learner," Methos answered and went back to the house.

Brianna grinned. "Do you want to hear the story, Joe? How we met?"

Sure like hell he wanted. There were only very few information on Nemain in the chronicles. But then he was reluctant. He wasn't a watcher anymore. Brianna was his friend. Perhaps even more, family.

She didn't seem to notice his hesitation. "I grew up in the north of Ireland," she began. "Today, it's the county Donegal. My father was a Celtic priest, a druid. He was a powerful man in our tribe. He had no wife, which was why he took care of me, a foundling. He always thought that I was something special, hence I'm pretty sure he didn't know about immortals. He taught me to be a druid since I started talking."

"Beer?" Methos reappeared on the terrace, carrying a six pack. "And perhaps something to take notes for Joe? That's a hell of a story for a watcher."

Joe made a face and took a beer.

Brianna took also a one and continued. She trusted Joe. She'd never thought that it would happen again that she was trusting a watcher. But she thought that Joe deserved the truth. And she was sure that he would do the best with it.

"When I was ten, my father arranged an engagement to the son of the chieftain of a neighbouring clan. It was regarded a favourable marriage, you know. For the clans. It was an unstable time then. The clans used to fight against each other. And an alliance would be of advantage."

"So you were bartered to a man you didn't know," Joe stated.

"I met my fiancé one year later. I felt immediately in love." She looked dreamy, lost in the memories for a moment. "It was love at first sight. For both of us. Yet, I wasn't old enough to get married. We had to wait two more years. It was almost unbearable. Conor used to visit me, clandestinely."

Joe frowned. "Conor?" he repeated.

"Yes, like in O'Conor," assured Methos, "No relationships to Scottish Boy Scouts."

Brianna ignored him. "He was so wonderful. He was a warrior. Brave. Strong. Fearless. He had this peculiar sense of humour. The day we finally married, I felt like heaven." She stopped, sipping beer and remembering for a while, smiling.

"I moved to his village," she continued, "We were so happy, we enjoyed our love. When his father died, he became the chieftain of his tribe. Conor was born to lead. Rumours of the Roman Army spread over the country. Conor knew that we wouldn't have a chance against this army, as hopelessly divided as the clans used to be. He had the vision of the unity of all clans, a strong united Ireland. He was a man, ahead of his time."

She took another sip before she continued. "We travelled a lot. From one clan to another. To bring the chieftains to unit. And often Conor succeeded in persuading them. I was always on his side. We were happy. The only issue was that I didn't become pregnant. His counsellors advised him to take a second woman. Wouldn't be something special, it was quite common for a chieftain to have more than one wife, especially if the first one wasn't able to give birth to a child. But he refused. It wasn't reasonable of him. He didn't want to hurt me. It was insane. He loved me. Too much, perhaps." She took a deep breath. She had made her peace with that part of her past, even if it had taken a long time. She knew, Conor didn't regret. He loved her, and he didn't regret. Like Michael. No regrets for loving her.

"The alliance of Conor grew stronger. Its enemies too. We were betrayed by one of our closest confederates. They attacked us at night. They killed most of our clansmen while they were sleeping. Conor fought as well as he could. They stabbed him in the back. They raped me before they killed me." She looked at Joe.

"Your first death. You revived," he said.

Brianna nodded. "I thought that it was a gift of the gods. That they brought me back from the Afterworld that I can take revenge for Conor. And I took my revenge. I gathered some men who survived the massacre. We hunted and killed the traitors. All of them. And then we killed their women and children, all their clansmen. But then, we didn't stop. I didn't stop. I covered the land with blood and horror. I killed everybody who supported the attackers, everybody whom I thought to be a supporter. And I killed their families, their wives, children and their children. I was sent by the gods to take revenge. And I knew no mercy." She closed her eyes.

Joe looked at the young woman besides him, wrapped in a white towel and who still had her feet on the table, half of the nails painted in pink. It was hard to imagine what she used to be. But he knew who he had in front of him. Not a young woman.

"My men were loyal to me. They saw how my wounds were healing. And one day, there was this warrior. He was the chieftain of a small clan, not important at all. In the battle, he sought to face me. I killed him. And then I took his head. Not because I knew about immortals, just because I liked to hang the heads of my enemies at the door of my tent. It was then I had my first Quickening. My men were horrified, but also convinced that I was a god. I was Nemain, goddess of frenzied havoc of war."

She cleared her throat. "To make it short. At the end, almost everybody was dead. Enemies, presumed enemies, allies, friends. Only I was still alive. I couldn't die. Oh, I wished so much that I could. I wanted to join Conor in the Afterworld. I didn't eat, didn't drink. I died, I revived. It was a nightmare. When I reached the coast I jumped off the cliffs. I drowned, I revived. I repeated it, again and again." She sighed and gestured with her head at Methos. "Then he arrived. He was a Roman tribun, spying for Rome." She took a deep breath and then she tried a grin. "From then, it was just heading can imagine how it is to have Methos as a teacher."

"Brianna was a complete pagan," Methos said, "The problem wasn't to teach her to fight. It was about teaching her manners."

Brianna laughed and made a joke about Methos being a dandy since the Middle Age. Joe grinned too, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Suddenly, he began to understand why Methos had chosen Brianna as a student. They shared a dark past, a past full of killing. And both got tired of the killing and changed their lifes. They were so different at first sight. But Joe learnt today that they had a lot in common.

"Uh, somebody hungry?" asked Methos.

"I am," said Brianna and continued to paint her nails. "There are some steaks in the fridge. Let us have a barbie."

* * *

Later, when they had eaten and were drinking another beer, Joe dared to ask a question. "When have you been in your homeland for the last time?"

Brianna took a deep breath. "Thirty years ago. To bury Conor."

Joe looked bewildered. "Thirty years?"

* * *

 ** _Backflash: 1980 – London to Donegal_**

 _It was a lazy Sunday morning. They had been living together for about five years by now. Michael knew that he would never get used to the fact that Brianna was fighting with a sword against other immortals, but he also knew that he couldn't protect her from other immortals. He had had a hard time to learn that but now after five years, he had learnt that interfering would even jeopardize Brianna's life. And he was also slowly getting used to the fact that Brianna seemed to be acquainted with more or less every person of his history book. Even if he wasn't always sure how many of her stories actually were true._

 _"_ _So, you want me really to believe that you knew Henry VIII?" he said._

 _"_ _Intimidately," Brianna answered._

 _"_ _Lucky you that you weren't one of the wives he beheaded," Michael replied dryly._

 _Brianna laughed and threw a cushion at him. "Haven't you said something about getting croissants for breakfast?"_

 _Michael sighed and bowed theatrically. "Whatever Mylady wishes." He grabbed the unread newspaper which fell on the floor during their intimacy. He threw it back on the bed and left the bedroom whistling._

 _The trip to the bakery and back took him perhaps a bit more than half an hour. He reentered the apartment he knew instantly that something was wrong. A glance at the bedroom proved him right, the bed was empty. The door of the locker was open, on the bed were lying some of Brianna's clothes. Signs of a hasty departure. No signs of an intruder. She was just gone._

 _On the kitchen table he found a piece of paper. "I'm sorry, B." was the whole message. Michael roared. He crumpled the note up, threw it at the wall. There was nothing he could do. She was like a leaf in the wind, how could he had ever thought he had something to hold her? He punched his fist against the wall. The pain in the hand didn't succeed to overlap the pain inside. He grabbed one of Brianna's Whiskey's bottles; he had never liked drinking alcohol; it made him only indifferent and dull. But at the moment, the perspective of indifference and dullness seemed to be attractive._

* * *

 _When he woke up, it was dark outside. He didn't know how many hours had passed since she had left him. His head seemed to crack. He didn't care. He reached for the bottle and swore when he saw that it was empty. There must be more somewhere. Brianna had always a good stock of alcohol. In the third attempt he succeeded in getting on his feet and staggered to the living room. Brianna stored her booze in an antic wooden chest. He opened it and grabbed the biggest bottle. He was up to open it when he suddenly stopped. No, drinking to unconsciousness wouldn't solve the problem. He wouldn't give in. Not without fighting. Brianna might be inscrutable, erratic some times. But Michael doubted that she had turned her mind about him in only half an hour and just decided to stop loving him._

 _He started to think logic. Something must have happened when he had been out. A call, a visit. Something that shocked her so much that it made her leave immediately. He looked at the phone, it seemed untouched but that had nothing to say. He went back to the bedroom. The bed was unmade; he didn't touch it since she had left. His glance fell on the newspaper on the floor. He took it and leafed through it. Politics, entertainment, gossip. Nothing special, just the usual crap. He was in the act of throwing it away when he suddenly discovered a frayed page. Someone had ripped out one half of a sheet._

 _The newsagent at the corner still had a newspaper from the day before. Back home, Michael searched for the missing page. There were several articles on it, but Michael knew at once which one must have caused Brianna's reaction. It was only a small story, some lines about an archaeological discovery in the north of Ireland. Archaeologists had discovered the tomb of a Celtic king, which was still intact including the bones of the king and grave goods. The excavation director, a professor from Trinity College in Dublin, was enthusiastic about the 'good shape' of the tomb and was sure that it would contribute to the understanding of the Celtic culture. In this very moment, it contributed to Michael's understanding of a two thousand years old woman. He headed for the phone and booked the next flight to Dublin._

* * *

 _The next morning, he arrived in the Irish capital. Without a specific plan, he took a taxi to the Trinity College. There, he found a considerable police detachment and a huge crowd of onlookers._

 _"_ _What happened?" he asked one of the onlookers who was looking like a student._

 _"_ _They broke into the institute of archaeology," the guy said, "It's said they robbed the bones of a Celtic king they've just found in Donegal."_

 _"_ _Probably a monkey shine of some graduates," Michael said._

 _The student shook his head. "Someone knocked down the night guard. Not the style of our graduates. But they were strange thieves; they only took the bones and left all the gold stuff back."_

 _A strange thief indeed, Michael thought, someone who was on a personal campaign and who didn't care about gold. He kept talking to the student for a while and found out where the excavations site was situated. Only one hour later, he was sitting in a rented car, heading north. In the evening, he arrived at Donegal. The site was in the north of the county, close to the coast. It was already too late to get there, so Michael took a room in a pub. The locals in the pub looked at him with suspicion, since he was obviously English and his short hair gave him a military look. Not a welcome guest so close to the boarder to North Ireland._

* * *

 _Brianna wasn't at the excavations site. Honestly, Michael wasn't surprised. It would be worthless to bring the bones back here with the archaeologists still digging. But Michael had no other hint. Brianna told him that she grew up in this region. But still, it was a wide county and Michael wasn't even sure that she had come here. He drove through the landscape the whole day, without a plan, hoping for a small hint. He asked people if they had seen Brianna, but nobody had, or they just didn't tell him. He was an outsider her; Brianna on the other hand would have no problems to adapt since it was her homeland._

 _Time to start a more systematic search, Michael decided in the evening. Whatever Brianna intended to do with the bones, she presumably needed time and a place that offered her confidentiality. He remembered that Brianna once had told him that she owned several real estates in her homeland. Therefore, the next day, Michael went to the land registry of the district. He knew that – apart from the amount of information in the thick register folios – he had another problem: He didn't know which name Brianna used to hold the land. His chances to find her were small, but he wouldn't give in. He noted land parcels which belonged to companies which appeared to be only shell companies as he knew that Brianna was using such vehicles to keep assets over more than a lifetime. In addition, he noted all land that belonged to people with the name O'Conor. The next days, he spent the mornings in the registry, searching the folios and ignoring the disapproving look of the clerk, and the afternoon in finding the noted parcels to spot Brianna. Three days later, he still had no indication of Brianna. Instead, the locals were definitely convinced that he was a British spy. In evening, when he was returning to the pub, a bunch of guys in ski masks were waiting for him. Michael sighed; there was no way to escape._

 _The doctor who was patching him up afterwards advised him to go home. "These weren't just some kids, you know," he said, "The English aren't very welcome here, you know."_

 _"_ _I don't care about politics," Michael said, "And I don't go. I'm here to find the woman I love."_

 _"_ _Has ever someone said to you that you are pig head?" the doctor asked._

 _"_ _Once or twice." He wanted to grin but just grimaced in pain._

 _"_ _I hope she's worth it."_

 _"_ _Every punch."_

* * *

 _Brianna watched Michael leaving the doctor and going back to the pub. At least he was still able to walk. She had a slight hope that he would leave now, but she knew that the hope was in vain. Michael was a pig head. Why was she surprised that he had found her anyway? His stubbornness would cost his life if he went on interrogating the locals. Brianna just hoped that nobody would find out about his SAS past. They would kill him. She went back to her car. She had to do something. Or she would lose another man she loved._

* * *

 _The next morning, Michael followed his routine and went to the land registry like nothing had happened. In the afternoon, he was on his way to a real estate that belonged to a company domiciled in Panama. Or to Brianna, maybe. And then, suddenly, he found her. She was standing at the roadside. Waiting for him, obviously. He stopped and left the car. He was torn whether he should kiss or hit her. Instead, he punched his car. "Tell me that you are fed up with me. Tell me that you don't love me and I'm out of here. But don't try to protect me. I can take care of myself and it's not up to you to decide what I can stand and what not!" he shouted at her._

 _Brianna made a move with her hand against his swollen face but didn't dare to touch him. "I'm sorry," she said._

 _"_ _Yeah, you've said so," he replied dryly._

 _Brianna sighed. "There are things in my life, in my past...what I used to be...what I still am...which are...complicated. And frightening."_

 _"_ _Really?" Michael asked sarcastically, "And I always thought to live with a two thousand years old woman with an affection to head chopping is a piece of cake."_

 _Brianna gave in. She nodded slightly. "Come with me."_

 _Michael followed Brianna's car along small gravel roads. After more than an hour, they stopped at the bottom of a hill near the shore. On the top of the hill, at the edge of the cliff, stood the ruins of a castle. The big tower and the surrounding wall had seen better days but were still resisting the tides of time._

 _"_ _Do you give me a hand?" Brianna opened the trunk of her car which was full of boxes and bags. Michael helped Brianna carrying her shopping up the hill._

 _"_ _I presume you know about the grave," Brianna said._

 _"_ _I suppose it was someone you knew very closely."_

 _Brianna nodded. "I buried him." She led him inside the castle into the great hall. In its middle stood a small wooden shelve, covered by a blue cloth. Brianna took the cover away and under it the missing skeleton appeared. "May I introduce you to Conor," she said._

 _"_ _Conor, as in O'Conor?" Michael asked carefully._

 _Brianna nodded. "Conor was my first love. And my first husband." She looked at Michael. "I couldn't allow that they put him in a museum."_

 _That was understandable but no reason why Brianna had left Michael so abruptly. Michael would have helped her to steal the bones from the university and Brianna knew that. But there was more. "When I met Conor, I wasn't yet immortal. He had no choice..." Brianna stopped. It was difficult to put her feelings into words. "I have to know what would have been if he had known...if he regrets."_

 _Michael understood her doubts, but he didn't know how these bones would help her to find an answer. But he supposed that it was not necessary to point that out to her. "I do whatever you want. I help you or I just sit in a corner and don't move. But don't push me away."_

 _Brianna tried a grin. "There're sides about me you don't know yet. I'm not sure if you like them."_

 _"_ _Try me," Michael answered._

 _Brianna sighed. A part of her was glad that he had come. Even if she didn't know how he would react to the hidden side in her: To Nemain, the druid. "I think I can need a hand," she said finally._

* * *

 _On the other side of the castle was a small valley through which a narrow creek ran. Brianna led Michael through a small forest and suddenly, in a clearing, a stone circle appeared. It had a diameter of about twenty meters and consisted of twenty four stones, all as tall as a man. A bit outside the circle a lamb was tied up at a short stick. Outside the circle, the grass was waist-high, inside, it was neatly cut. Several boxes were lying around. It was obvious that Brianna was preparing a ritual in the circle. A funeral, Michael assumed. In the middle of the circle, Brianna had started to pile a stake._

 _"_ _I need this stake at least one fifty high. And on the top a stable scaffolding."_

 _Michael nodded. "No problem." He took off his jacket and started working._

* * *

 _They didn't talk much the following days. Brianna was preparing the ritual and Michael sometimes glanced at the peculiar things she was gathering: An array of herbs and flowers were drying in the sun, together with heaps of mushrooms. In a big kettle, night and day a liquid mass was boiling. In the castle, sheets with strange symbols where lying around. Star charts. During the nights, Brianna was outside, observing the sky for hours. Michael watched her sometimes and looked up to the sky with her and wondered what she was looking for._

* * *

 _About a week after Michael's arrival, Brianna approached him with a knife and a small cup in her hands._

 _"_ _I need some blood," she said._

 _"_ _Whatever you want."_

 _They sat down and Brianna took his arm and made a quick cut in his forearm. She caught the blood in the bowl. When she had enough she pressed a clean towel at the wound to stop the bleeding. "The ritual will start tomorrow," she said. "You can watch, but please, promise me to stay out of the circle."_

 _Michael nodded. "I promise."_

 _The next morning, Brianna asked Michael to drive her with the pick-up she had hired to a forest further north. When they arrived, Brianna took off her shirt and bra and handed Michael a small bowl which contained a reddish liquid._

 _"_ _Could you draw this one on my back?" she asked and showed him a sheet with a drawing Michael assumed to be a Celtic symbol._

 _Michael looked at the liquid. "Does that contain my blood?" he asked curiously._

 _"_ _The blood of a warrior."_

 _Michael dipped his finger in the liquid and touched Brianna's skin. She shivered slightly. Carefully, Michael copied the symbol to Brianna's skin. When he was finished, Brianna left the car and provided a long spear and a knife from the back of the car._

 _"_ _That could take a while." she said._

 _"_ _I'm not going anywhere," Michael said. "Take care," he added._

 _Brianna nodded and gave him a short kiss on the cheek. The first tenderness for weeks. Then she ran into the forest._

 _Michael waited and let his eyes wander across the land and wondered how it had looked like two thousand years ago. Sure, the transmission lines wouldn't have been there, neither the roads. But nevertheless, in this remote region of the country, time could have stand still._

 _It was almost noon, when Brianna reappeared at the edge of the forest. She beckoned him over. "I need some help with carrying." she said when he reached her. She looked exhausted and was covered with sweat and dirt. He followed her into the forest and after a short time, they arrived at a dead stag with impressive antlers. "You killed that guy with a spear?" Michael asked impressed._

 _"_ _Was harder than I remembered," she admitted._

 _"_ _Civilisation sissy." Michael joked and Brianna smiled. It was only a small smile, but for the first time since he arrived her face had brightened up. "Let's drag it to the van."_

* * *

 _Shortly before nightfall, the actual ritual started. Michael made himself comfortable outside the stone circle. She warned him once more not to enter the circle or to disturb the ritual in any other way. Then she disappeared in the direction of the creek and reappeared about half an hour later, wet and naked. In front of the stone circle, she had placed a basin. Michael had seen that she had mixed there a white powder with water. Now she was spreading the white mass over her body and hair until she was totally covered. Then, she entered the circle and the last glow of the setting sun was lightening her and let her white body shine in red. She raised her arms and suddenly a ring of fire spread inside the stones. She stepped right into it and her body disappeared in a flash of flames. Michael jumped to his feet, but in the same moment Brianna stepped out of the fire and the flames at her body were gone._

 _Michael gasped and sat down again. Brianna took a dark blue towel from the ground and wrapped it around her hips. The ritual had begun. She began to sing. Michael had heard her sing before. But this was different. Her voice seemed to be deeper than usual, vibrant. The lyrics were in an unknown, presumably dead language. She performed a kind of a dance along the stones and around the stake. She poked the fire under the huge kettle and a strange, sweet smell reached Michael and made him feel dizzy._

 _After a while, the singing changed into a kind of sprechgesang. She took a long knife and started to cut the stag. She cut off its head and heart and laid both on the scaffold between Conor's bones. Next, she grabbed the lamb and sliced with a quick cut its throat. She caught its blood in a small cup. She took a sip of the blood before she spilt the rest over the bones. Then she finally lit the stake. She stood back and raised her hand to the heaven. Her body was covered with blood and Michael began to understand what she had tried to tell him. No, this woman in the stone circle was not the woman he knew for five years now. Not Brianna. She was someone more ancient: Nemain. The pagan. The druid. The goddess._

 _An owl landed on the ring stone in front of Michael. He was wondering if it was attracted by the fire when he discovered another bird on the next stone. And then he saw that on every stone of the circle an owl was sitting. And then suddenly a strong wind came up. In a strange way, it seems to blow only around the circle, inside, it seemed to be perfectly calm. Michael looked up to the sky and saw in the glow of the flames that the clouds were moving and opening the look to the stars. It felt as something had wakened up, something powerful and primordial: An old power that rose from within the earth, unleashed. A cold shiver ran down his back. He was a courageous man. But here he was witnessing powers that were far beyond his understanding. Brianna went to the kettle and with a small cup she spilled the boiling lotion over her body. The singing changed again. It was higher now, beseeching._

 _Michael had assumed that Brianna would perform a funeral ritual. But even without any knowledge of Celtic religion, he instinctively knew that this was something different. What Brianna had said? I have to know if he regrets. And suddenly Michael understood. This wasn't a funeral, or not only. This was necromancy. Michael's rational sense told him that it wasn't possible to contact the dead. But then, his sense had also told him that nobody was immortal._

 _Michael lost his sense of time. The smell of the lotion made him dizzy and shapes started to blur. Suddenly, a movement near him drew his attention. A dog. He squinted his eyes to see more clearly. No, not a dog. A wolf. Were there wolves in Ireland anyway?_

* * *

 _Brianna flew over the green hills. She felt light like a bird. The landscape was so familiar to her like she had never left: The village at the back of the gentle valley, surrounded by the fields full of crops. Sheep were grazing. She headed to the top of the hill. The white stones of the dolmen contrasted to the green surroundings. Conor was sitting on the top of it, carving a bit of wood with a knife. She came to rest next to him. He smiled at her. Like he had always smiled at her. "Nem, I missed you," he said._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Conor." she said._

 _"_ _D'you see the day? It's beautiful," he said, "Beautiful as you, my love."_

 _"_ _I didn't want to leave you."_

 _"_ _You never left," he said, "You're always here." He touched her cheek._

 _Brianna closed her eyes, absorbing the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. "I wish I could have followed you."_

 _Conor shook his head. "This wasn't your path. It was mine alone. But I'm glad you'd crossed it, my love."_

 _"_ _I love you, Conor."_

 _He smiled again. "D'you see the day, Nem? It's waiting for you." He gave her the piece of wood and Brianna looked down at the carving. It was a dragon. The symbol of strength and impulsiveness. The totem of heroes and guardians._

 _"_ _I won't leave you again," she said._

* * *

 _The rising sun and the cold woke Michael up. He must have snoozed for a while. The fires had gone out. Michael looked out for Brianna. She was lying in the ring, motionless. Michael was unsure what to do. He was worried, but he also didn't want to interrupt the ritual. He raised, went closer to the ring. The owls were gone; the wolf too, if there had been really one. The memories of the last night were blurred. But he could still remember the power he had felt. However, it was gone either._

 _Finally, he couldn't wait longer. He entered the circle and knelt down next to Brianna. Her breath was weak, the heartbeat hardly palpable. She cannot die, he told himself. Still, he was worried. The faint sweet smell of the lotion wafted up his nose. It made him dizzy again. He remembered the herbs and the mushroom. Whatever she had put in there, it had a strong hallucinogen effect. And her whole body was still covered with it. Immortal or not, as long as the lotion was on her body, she wouldn't wake up, Michael was sure. Determined, he lifted her and carried her to the creek. He placed her in the water and started to wash the lotion and the mix of blood and chalk from her naked body. She started to move, mumbled something in a language, which Michael didn't recognized. Finally, she said something which could have been Conor. Then, in English and clearly understandable: "I love you." Michael didn't answer. What to say, anyway?_

 _Then, suddenly, she opened her eyes and grasped him. "Have you heard? I love you, Michael Hannah, I really do."_

 _Michael looked down at her and smiled. "I love you too, Nemain."_


End file.
